


Stay Alive

by hellosterek



Series: HelloSterek's Summer One Shot Challenge [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, One Shot, hellosterek's summer one shot challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:27:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1732778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellosterek/pseuds/hellosterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek does what he does best. He runs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [Summer One Shot Challenge](http://hellosterek.tumblr.com/post/87511241651/hellostereks-summer-one-shot-challenge-requests-are). Prompted by Anonymous. Also find this on Tumblr ([here](http://hellosterek.tumblr.com/post/87644093776/sterek-prompt-choose-2-songs-from-your-sterek-playlist)).

###### "I woke up one morning to find myself wrapped in the things I swore I’d never touch. And here I am again trying to save what’s left of you and I." -Too Many Words, Sick Puppies  
  
"Nothing goes as planned, everything will break…oh, you’re in my veins and I cannot get you out…everything will change, nothing stays the same." -In My Veins, Andrew Belle

Derek was running. Away from Stiles. Away from pack. Away from home. His heartbeat was frantic, but it had nothing to do with how hard he was pushing himself and everything to do with how crowded his head felt. Stiles. The nogitsune. Kate’s return. He felt like he was struggling to keep up with it all. Everything was happening so fast and, as the days wore on, he was losing everyone he’d grown to care about.

His family to the fire. Laura. Erica. Boyd. Aiden. Allison.

It felt like everything he touched turned to ash and decay. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid of getting too close and losing it all. But he knew that had already started to happen.

Scott. Ethan. Isaac. Kira. Stiles.

He had done the one thing he told himself he’d never do: he started to care. He let go of the power that once controlled him and clung on to the things that weren’t his, to the things that weren’t guaranteed.

His anchor was no longer his anger or his family.

His anchor was something much more prone to death that either of those. His anchor was a hyperactive, accident-prone klutz who, until recently, Derek had believed couldn’t even defend himself. He was weak and that scared Derek more than he was willing to admit.

Derek stumbled through the woods, catching himself against a tree, his forearm resting heavily against the jagged bark. Nobody had followed him when he’d run away. He was thankful, but also wary. He knew the reason they hadn’t followed him was likely because they’d heard the argument he’d had with Stiles.

He hadn’t meant to tell him.

He hadn’t meant to let the words slip out. He hadn’t meant to say anything at all.

When Stiles joined the pack at Derek’s loft after Allison’s wake, everyone had flocked to him. They hadn’t crowded him as much as made sure that they touched him in some way - small, reassuring touches that were meant for comfort. Stiles blamed himself, he always did. He was angry with himself for not being stronger, for not being able to deter the nogitsune and take control of his own body. Because of his self-loathing, Stiles seemed the most upset over Allison’s death, even more than Scott or Isaac. Derek understood the feeling all too well - that feeling of being responsible for the death of a loved one, even though saving them was out of his power. It was the heaviest weight that Derek had carried for years after the fire and now Stiles had a weight of his own.

Derek sat down next to him on the couch, offering a weak smile when Stiles glanced up at him. Stiles didn’t return the gesture, instead went back to staring down at his hands.

Derek didn’t know how it happened.

One minute he was lightly touching Stiles’s shoulder and the next they were upstairs in Derek’s bed, Stiles’s tears soaking into the blankets as Derek sat near him, his knee resting against the small of Stiles’s back as he faced away from him. Stiles hadn’t looked at him since they’d gone upstairs, hadn’t said much except “I’m sorry" and "It’s my fault.” 

Derek wasn’t good with feelings. He wasn’t good with making people feel better or reassuring them. All he knew how to do was hate himself and everyone around him. He knew how to blame people, blame himself. But when it came to making those feelings go away? Derek had never quite figured that part out. He knew that no matter what he said, Stiles would still feel some of that blame. Derek could deny it and try to prove him wrong, but it wouldn’t change how Stiles felt.

They fell asleep in the same bed that night.

Not touching except for the light brush of their elbows.

Derek woke up the next morning to Stiles’s arms and legs wrapped around him and Stiles’s mouth against his neck. The warmth of the boy’s skin against his own kept him calm, relaxed to close his eyes and drift off again.

He didn’t move until the boy next to him started to stir.

Derek couldn’t move fast enough, was out of the bed before Stiles could even open his eyes and squint against the sunlight. There was a deep frown on his face when he finally did, as if he couldn’t quite remember where he was or how he’d gotten there. He blinked at Derek, stretching his arm over the mattress and moving to roll onto his back and almost fell off the bed in the process. His arm flailed and his eyes went wide as he quickly rolled onto his stomach, is mouth gaping. Derek had smirked, but didn’t move from his spot by the window.

"Wh-" Stiles breathed, letting out a frustrated breath. "Thanks for the help, Derek. Real good use of your super werewolf abilities.”

He waved a vague hand in Derek’s direction and Derek raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest. “What did you want me to do? Catch you?”

"Would’ve been nice," Stiles mumbled into the pillow, hiding from the sunlight. “‘time is it?"

Derek rolled his eyes and glanced at the clock. “Seven.”

Stiles groaned. “‘s’too early. Why are you awake?”

Your cold toes against my leg, Derek wanted to say, but didn’t.

I couldn’t sleep, was what he should have said, but he didn’t say that either.

"I’m glad you didn’t die," he’d blurted, as if he was the one with the tendency to word vomit all over anyone within speaking distance.

Stiles went still, his breath catching. The room fell into an awkward silence that was only broken when Stiles slowly turned his head to face Derek, clutching the pillow tightly in his arms. He eyed Derek curiously. “Uh, yeah. Me too.”

Lie.

Stiles lied. He wasn’t happy that he didn’t die. He would have preferred to be the one who had died instead of Allison, to have been put out of his misery when they had had the chance to do it.

Although having experienced those exact feelings for himself, it angered Derek to know that Stiles thought that way. That he wanted to die. That he didn’t think life was worth it anymore.

"You deserve to live, Stiles," Derek stated firmly.

Stiles shook his head, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t.”

The sadder and more pitiful Stiles got, the angrier Derek became. “Why not?”

"Because Allison didn’t deserve to die!" Stiles bellowed, throwing the blankets off him in a flail of limbs before getting to his feet. He gestured around the room, at nothing in particular. "It should have been me!”

Derek breathed through his nose and curled his hands into fists, his anger rising in his chest. “Oh, fuck you, Stiles! None of you deserve to die!”

"Oh, but you do!" Stiles screamed, his cheeks flushed. "Right? That’s what you’ve been telling yourself all this time?"

Derek flinched, frowning. “That’s different. My entire family-“

"You’re right, Derek! It is different! You weren’t the one who killed them! Kate did that! You didn’t hurt anyone!”

Derek’s jaw clenched. “Neither did you!”

"I saw everything!” Stiles seethed, tears glistening in his eyes as his hands began to shook. “I felt everything! Okay?” He pressed his hand to his eye as the tears started to fall and shook his head, his voice broken. “I’d rather be dead than live with these memories.”

Derek felt the anger drain out of him, his chest deflating until there was seemingly nothing left. He felt his eyes sting with his own tears and shook his head. “Fuck you, Stiles.”

Stiles raised his eyes to meet Derek’s. Derek took a moment to look at him, noticing that the dark circles under his eyes and his hallowed cheeks already made him look like he was dying.

He looked away and grabbed his jacket off the floor, starting for the door. He paused on the threshold, his hands twisting the fabric of his jacket as he stared at the floor. “Death doesn’t only happen to you, Stiles. Some of us need you to keep us alive.”

Derek ran until he couldn’t run anymore, until his stamina was low and his feet were sore. He collapsed with his back against the tree and laid his head back, letting his eyes fall closed, the cuts and scrapes from branches and twigs already starting to heal.

He’d go home. It wasn’t an option for him not to. He needed Stiles like he needed the blood that was in his veins.

Stiles was his anchor, the one thing that kept him human, and Derek still needed to protect him.


End file.
